The life of a foolish man

A mans life comes to its end in flashes of reflection,

 upon beams, of times light passed, into refraction.

What can one glean, what is seen, as all before, is the past.

Looking back tells a story,

in it, he knows no glory.

 

The mold formed, the die had been cast.

For all ( or most ) he gave only moments of pleasure

little from the depths, of the buried treasure.

The only golden moments given, came in liquid beginnings,

beginnings without any life to further enhance the journey

into the chests of ?, wombs generating the end.

Now, only memories live on, in aloneness, to fend

off the heartache, the losses, the rejections.

The game is over, there are no more innings.

With the last pitch, the ball flies into eternity.

In this life there are no more satisfactions.

This, the life of a foolish man,

who no longer can,

come together,

with another!

B. J. “A” 2
July 14^th 2008

 

Forty years have slipped By

Out of thought, far from my minds eye.

No more images of – no tears do I cry.

You have been gone these forty years.

 

No more does my memories hoard shed tears

for what the Grand took form me,

rivers flooding, towards the sea.

For thirty years, you haunted my soul.

Bad luck was all I came to know.

On the anniversary, thirtieth year, I did show

 

you, it was time to move on, time to let go

of this plane, this time - 3^rd month, 13^th day, 1973 –

forgive yourself, forgive me and let it all be.

 

That moment in time, history

it seems, no longer is it my story.

I completely forgot about you.

 

I guess that is what time will do,

leave bitter sweet moments of time,

the memories of, what was yours and mine.

 

There has come this time, come the stage

were upon we play out our parts in rage

then for the rest of life, stand in the wings

and watch others, who know other things

that to our waning life, bring

sweet notes only angles may sing.

Fate ?, fear ?, my friend - I can not say,

all I know, is that I lived to see another day

and for many, many years I did pray

 

that your soul, your spirit would slip away,

no longer be the apparition people did see,

no longer be the force that haunted me.

 B. J. “A” 2

March 25^th 2013

Mother Earth

 An ancient, elegant – once jolly – old Lady,

deserving of so, very much more then

 the rape and pillage, the destruction and pollution,

the chemical alterations – poisons,

the theft of, the abuse of

all her innocent, naked, natural beauty.

This old Lady, who has been – who will again –

as self-destructive as any of her daughters –

of man kind – and without the help of man kind’s

selfish, inconsiderate, thoughtless greed.

Will She, ?, will we ?, survive the turbulent throes

of an uncertain, an unpredictable, veiled future -

even if we ( as capable human inhabitants ),

even if she ( the energy, mother of us all ), -

are able ?, to curb our insatiable appetites,

are able ?, to thwart what may be inevitable -

change and a world, -  her life time of changes.

Is her ?, is our ?, relationship to this universe

a foretold tale of unavoidable doom.

Is our evolution ?, life ?, destiny ?, our development ?,

upon the breasts of Mother Earth,

to come to an end in a daze, a haze of gloom ?,

as we all ( Mother Earth, Life, human kind )

are destined to become ( once again ) cosmic dust

blowing in the winds of memories hoard, of time –

passing into - becoming spirituality adrift on cosmic

winds – ghostly souls, spirits  - once again sailing,

searching, seeking solidity - once again - of visible form

to walk upon the surface of a much better plane,

better then what has become of what we are now !

 

Next time around, will thoughtfulness ?, be the tought !

It has been thought of more - that opened the door,

that – if we do not, soon change - will be closed –

Forevermore !

 

B. J. “A” 2

May 23^rd 2008

Into the darkness

Azrarl, slips into the darkness of our nights , looking for us all.

The Grim Reaper, cuts his path deep into our mortality.

Ste Peter, opens wide, those pearly gates, for some of us souls.

Beelzebub, strokes hell’s fire, in anticipation, greetings for the rest of us.

These apparitions come on the wings of mans mind,

imagination – designed to fence in – keep the sheep in line –

for sheep are lost, have been for thousands of years in time.

Free Spirits, Lions, Heroes, - all have found a place in rhyme.

Spirit-ality, cosmic dust, cosmic consciousness–this is mine !,

that journey into the great unknown–adventures into the ether.

Is it heaven?, is it hell?, who can tell?, not you!, me neither!

Life on this plane ( heaven or hell ) is where it is at

and where it is at, is what one creates for oneself.

After all is said and done, good, bad, right, wrong,

heaven or hell, - outside one’s mind – exist not !

B. J. “A” 2

April 23^rd 2008

Gardens

 A lovely Tomato, to brighten up my days.

A beautiful Sun Flower, to lighten my ways.

A Rose, of brilliant passions to delight my dreams.

A haunting – nightmare – pain filled thorns – steams

into consciousness on beams of light – acknowledgement

of all that grows in a stark, garden basement.

 

There is this Fertilizer, - food for growth – for this Garden,

this Gardener needs – the water of life dries up – harden

the soil, leaving it untilled, unseeded, to dust and barren.

 

This Life, Tomato, Sun Flower, Rose, nourish the dreams,

feeds this Gardeners, old soul’s desire for life beyond, seems

to be beneath this Flower’s, desire, - passions buried asunder.

This Garden’s, heart beats to the rhythms or crashing thunder

praying for lightening to ignite the Spirit, grow out from under.

 B. J. “A” 2

April 3^rd 2008

Forces

 Repressive chains come in, on progressive waves,

shackling emotional gold, – energy projecting,

life’s forces – reaching out to holistic arms’

bringing back together, that which has particeled.

Geometric progression – images of – prognosticated

that the source will shatter, like a million mirrors,

into a billion reflective fragments – partials of,

what can not be separated from the whole.

This universe, nothing but a black hole !, for this soul

where the pieces of, will not come together, coalesce,

just remain, refracted energy, projected through prisms

of indifference, rainbows, this life, becoming prisoners of.

Love’s journey towards – reaches back to become whole

holographic images – a life imbued – wanting to know.

 

 

B. J. “A” 2

April 2^nd 2008

Islands

 Islands are – it seems – so many of us.

Worlds apart – alone – in the seas of life.

Joined at the hip – by an adversarial universe.

Amputated from a living solar system

 by the master surgeons – insecurity, self doubt,

criticism, negativity,  skewed points of view.

 

Tear tempests rage from within us.

 Tsunamis, tearing up any traces of,

the mighty oaks we may have been.

 

Islands - are we ?,  many lost in the sea of,

humanity all around, if, but we could see.

Drifting on crests of gigantic waves.

Cradled within the troughs of ocean’s anger,

being tossed towards the brink of humanity,

on a journey that is carrying us through eternity.

Deserted islands we have become – by choice ?

Ships that pass throughout our nights,

disembarking bodies – life boats to the shore,

these islands, secluded, to explore,

so many constipations lay within,

islands in the seas of humanity.

Islands of lost, empty souls,

islands floating – Sargasso Sea,

islands adrift – apart.

Brilliant, stands that joyous orb,

screaming down upon us all – happiness –

on beams of dancing – feet,

gliding, rhythmically, across us desolate islands,

trying to part lightness into our days,

some days ?, many ?,

it can not dissipate the haunting shadows,

shadows that shroud, darken our life’s experiences.

Good days – some – eclipsed by the essence of our realities.

 B. J. “A” 2
February 22^nd 2008